As a black woman, I fear traveling alone in my own country.
I am one of the 21 million Americans who have a passport and usually get at least two new stamps each year. However, along with almost every other aspect of my life, the COVID-19 pandemic has eliminated the possibility of intercontinental travel or even domestic group travel for the time being. Instead, I am researching solo travel within the United States. But this has aroused in me a strange new anxiety: the fear of traveling alone in my own country. [I fear that racism, ignorance of its existence, and a blatant lack of justice for people of color is pervasive throughout the United States. How am I supposed to have fun in a place where I may be a minority and therefore have a target on my back?
I can rejoice in knowing that Trump, who has routinely incited violence and denied the existence of racism, lost the election. And I can hope that our nation will return to treating others with humility and empathy. But we can't ignore the fact that some states voted overwhelmingly red: according to a 2020 Pew survey, only 17% of those with Republican-leaning political views felt that blacks still needed to work harder to gain equal rights. The same survey also found that 79% of those leaning to the right believe that the biggest problem with racism in the United States is that people see racism when it does not actually exist (13% of those leaning Democratic). Regardless of the final results of the election, President Trump received over 74 million votes. In other words, millions of people cling to his racist rhetoric and fear-mongering.
As a black woman, I am wary of being in the wrong place when someone tries to brandish bigotry. Yet, in the past, stepping outside of my comfort zone in New Jersey rarely deterred me. I embraced the idea of exploring the unknown while respecting my introversion and independence. The worst thing I experienced abroad was having my picture taken by a Chinese tourist in Seoul. My friend Sarah told me not to do that if I ever visited her home state of Alaska.
I was fortunate to see many wonders within Alaska's borders. In the lowlands, I took pictures under centuries-old trees wrapped in Spanish moss. In Utah, I traversed three miles of forest roads in search of hot springs at dusk; I once spent an hour climbing an abandoned railroad track to view Oahu from the top of Koko Craterhead. But all of these experiences are pre-2020. Not only did we endure an emotional election cycle this year, but media coverage of black deaths exposed a lack of empathy for many people not affected by racism. And because of the pandemic, we are stuck in our homes and continue to see it all as a loop. I no longer feel safe hiking alone or going out after dark in unfamiliar places. There is no denying the beauty of our country, but there is also the ugliness.
This year has seen police called on black hotel guests (open in new tab), police called on black birdwatchers (open in new tab), and in one of the worst news stories, sadly, the shooting death of jogger Ahmod Arberry in his own town (open in new tab ). I enjoy running on the road, but until recently, I never thought it would end in tragedy: despite being a sci-fi fantasy show, the HBO series "Lovecraft Country" (opens in new tab), about a 1950s American town at nightfall, is a black may be the most accurate depiction of the ever-present dangers faced on a road trip.
It's been a little over a year since I took a proper vacation, but wanderlust still plagues me. My friends, who share my sense of adventure, have spent their time in isolation, taking solo road trips in the Pacific Northwest and driving up the East Coast to Wyoming. They also happen to be my white friends.
Although the number of people infected with COVID-19 in the United States continues to skyrocket at an alarming rate, the news that the vaccine has been distributed gives me hope that safe international travel and group travel will soon be a reality. Until then, I'll be exploring every inch of my comfort zone and escaping with a good book in a cozy Airbnb in a familiar neighborhood. Maybe one day I can hike in the Great Smoky Mountains or run in Jackson Hole by myself without fear for my safety.
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